Touch Deprived
by noiproksa
Summary: Confused by all the human rules for personal space and touching, Cas has to come up with excuses in order to be able to touch Dean and Sam. Or is it the other way around?
1. Chapter 1

The first time if happened, at least the first time Dean noticed it, was after a particularly easy hunt. They were back at the bunker celebrating their success with a beer. No one had been injured, the Rugaru was dead and – it bore repeating – no one had even so much as a paper cut. So when Cas leaned over the table to touch two fingers to Dean's forehead, Dean was puzzled to say the least. Before he could react, he felt the healing warmth rush through him and a slight tension headache he hadn't even been aware of subside.

"Thanks?" he muttered.

The next time it happened, Dean was no more prepared for it. They were getting ready to watch an episode of _Dr. Sexy, M.D._ and Dean was just returning with the popcorn when he stubbed his toe in his haste to get to the couch.

"Son of a bitch," he hissed as he hopped the last few steps to the couch and let himself fall down next to Cas. By the time he was seated, the toe had already stopped hurting, but Cas reached out and touched his arm anyway. The last bit of ringing in his toe melted away. Still, Cas let his hand linger, probably making sure Dean was completely healed.

"Um… thanks," Dean said, and, finally, Cas let go of his arm.

"You're welcome." When Dean looked over, Cas' full attention was focused on the TV.

They ended up binging an entire season of _Dr. Sexy, M.D._ and by the next morning Dean was seriously beat. When Cas saw the bags under his eyes and tried to heal them by laying a hand on Dean's shoulder, Dean took a swipe at the angel's hands. He wasn't quick enough, though, and the next second, he was feeling more awake than after two cups of coffee. He decided to let it slide for now. He would be better prepared for the next sneak heal attack.

* * *

Dean hadn't realized that it was something Cas did with Sam, too, until Sam asked about it one morning when they were alone at the breakfast table. "What's up with Cas lately?"

"What do you mean?" Dean mumbled around another big bite of his breakfast pie.

Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean meaningfully. "He healed my _split ends_."

"Yeah, that's pretty weird," Dean admitted, filing away the information about split ends for future teasing purposes.

"Hello, Dean. Sam."

Dean turned around and sure enough, there was the angel they had been talking about.

"Speak of the angel," Dean murmured while Sam greeted Cas with a friendly nod and motioned for him to sit down with them. As Cas did just that, Dean and Sam shared a meaningful look, silently arguing over who had to say something to Cas about the whole healing business.

When Dean lost that battle, he began, "So, Cas… Sam was just wondering…" This earned him a bitch face from Sam, which he chose to ignore. "What's up with all the healing?"

"You injure yourselves regularly. I do not derive pleasure from seeing you in pain."

"Okay, sure. But there's pain from being thrown across the room by demons and cracking your ribs – and then there's… not getting enough beauty sleep. – See the difference there?"

"Sleep deprivation is nothing to make fun of, Dean. It is a serious condition for humans," Cas admonished him.

Dean shot a look at Sam, who fortunately understood what Dean was getting at and hurried to help him out. "We're just saying that you don't have to heal us every time we sneeze. That's normal for humans. We appreciate the help when we get injured in fights, but my hair is just fine the way it is. – You don't usually bother with little things like that, right?"

Cas averted his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. Talking to the table, he explained, "It occurred to me that you do not have any grace to make sure your vessels stay in good condition."

"You only just now realized that we don't have any grace?" Dean asked, smirking. "What, they didn't teach you that in 'Humanity 101'?"

Cas tilted his head and Dean remembered too late that this was the kind of sarcasm Cas still had problems with. But when Cas answered, he simply ignored Dean's teasing questions. "It does not bother me to use my grace to heal your vessels. I believe you would say 'My grace is your grace.'"

"That's… nice, I guess," Dean acknowledged. "Just… keep it to injuries that are more severe than, say, a nick from shaving, okay?" When Sam looked at him strangely, he hurried to add, "As a purely hypothetical example." No reason to give Sammy any extra ammunition for teasing him back.

"As you wish," Cas said, and Dean knew that look. This would have been the time Cas would have disappeared on them if he could still fly. Instead, he had to do it the human way: He got up and said stiffly, "I still have some things to take care of." Then he simply walked out the door.

Dean stared after him for a few seconds. He had gotten what he wanted. Cas had agreed to lay off. Dean Winchester: 1 – clueless angel who didn't know how to behave appropriately: 0. – So why did it feel like he had lost that battle?

* * *

Cas was good for his word. He didn't heal Dean when he burned his hand on a pan, and Sam sported a bruise over his left eye for a few days from where he had opened a cupboard too quickly.

The fact that their team was slowly becoming more and more efficient at hunts also meant that they hadn't been thrown across any rooms in quite a while. No cracked ribs, no concussions, no stab wounds, no nothing. Which, on paper, sounded like something Dean should be grateful for. Instead, he slowly started to realize that he really missed Cas' healing touch (emphasis on 'healing' of course). But their luck was bound to run out some day – Dean was sure he'd end up with something worse than a 'nick from shaving' sooner rather than later. Not that he was hoping for it or anything…

* * *

The first time was an accident. Dean cut himself while chopping onions for a burger. It hurt like a son of a bitch and his legs had already carried him halfway to Cas' room before he even knew where he was going.

"Hey, Cas, I could use a little angel mojo over here," he yelled, making sure to keep pressure on the piece of cloth he had wrapped his hand in.

Cas was in front of him so fast that Dean almost thought he had regained the ability to fly, and took Dean's hand in his. The pain vanished instantly, leaving behind a warm tingling in his fingers. And maybe somewhere inside his chest…

The next time was not quite as accidental. Dean was cutting himself a slice of the cherry pie they had stored in the fridge that week. He stared at the knife which was maybe a bit bigger and sharper than one would normally need for this task for a long time before he let it carelessly 'slip.' He also made sure that Cas was close by, so it didn't really count as crazy or irresponsible behavior in his book.

Yelling "A little help here?" was all it took for Cas to come to the rescue and heal him. First, he touched Dean's shoulder, as he had done as a healing technique a couple times before, then Cas used the momentum to pull him into a full-on hug. Dean could feel more healing energy flow from Cas to him, everywhere they touched.

"Uhm…" Dean said, not quite sure if this was the 'pat on the back' kind of hug or what he should do with his arms. He had never received a healing hug before, after all.

Just then, Sam came rushing in, gun in hand, probably having heard Dean's yell for help as well. When he spotted Dean and Cas, he lowered his gun. Dean was tempted to comment on the fact that he would probably have been too late if Dean had truly been in danger, but Cas, who had let go of him, already explained about the injury, which made Sam look at Dean suspiciously.

The suspicion in his eyes only grew darker when Dean's best explanation for what had occurred was a helpless shrug and an "I just got excited about the pie, I guess."

* * *

It happened twice more after that. The first time, Dean walked into a door and had to explain to Cas that, yes, this was a more serious injury than a nick from shaving (even though you could hardly see the bump). The second time, he pretended to fall down the stairs. At least it had started out with him pretending, but it turned out that that wasn't as easy as he had thought, and so he wound up with a not-so-pretend broken arm.

"Did you get yourself cursed again or something?" Sam asked, a frown on his face. "You're very clumsy lately."

"Shut up, Sammy."

They ended up spending an entire afternoon searching the whole bunker for hex bags Dean knew weren't there.

* * *

Maybe that was why they weren't as prepared as usual for the hunt that night, and why the vamps got the drop on them – mainly because, as it turned out, they weren't vampires at all, but monsters they had never encountered before. That's how Dean, Sam and Cas ended up in an abandoned warehouse fighting half a dozen butt-ugly monsters that kind of reminded him of Neanderthals.

Dean swung his blade, decapitating one of them and turned around to take a lunge at the next one. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a flash of bright light. Hopefully that meant that Cas had gotten one, too. By the time Dean turned back around, the monster he had decapitated before had grown its head back. Son of a bitch!

"Decapitation doesn't work!" yelled Sam from the other side of the room.

"Thanks for the heads up," Dean yelled back and rammed his blade into the monster's chest – which didn't slow it down in the slightest. Damn! There went his weapon.

"Smiting works," Cas commented.

"Not very helpful for all non-angels in the room," Dean shouted, stumbling back a few steps from the monster that was still advancing on him while he tried to come up with another plan. Unfortunately, there were two other Neanderthals approaching from behind.

"I meant, close your eyes!" came Cas' deep voice from somewhere off to his right.

Dean knew what was coming a split second before it happened, and he had hardly enough time to shield his eyes. He saw the blinding light even through his arms and his tightly closed eyes, and heard light bulbs explode above their heads. He briefly wondered where all the energy came from, since Cas was still not back to his full power, but he didn't have time to ponder on it. The Neanderthals screamed in agony and then, as suddenly as it had started, the light was gone and the room was dead silent.

When Dean opened his eyes again, it was hard to make out anything at all, since Cas had fried the electricity in the building. The first thing he could make out once his eyes had adjusted to the dark was a bunch of dead Neanderthals on the ground. The next thing he noticed was Cas staggering slightly and reaching out to the wall next to him in order to support himself. Dean rushed to him, but Sam, who had been closer, was already on him, asking, "Cas, you okay?"

"That took considerably more energy than anticipated," Cas said by way of explanation, curling in on himself. "I'm just going to…" Instead of finishing that sentence, Cas slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall for support. He was breathing heavily and held his head in his hands.

"Sam, go get the Impala!" Dean ordered as he tossed him the keys. Then he knelt down next to Cas, a hand on his shoulder. He hardly registered Sam hurrying away, his footsteps echoing in the huge room.

"I'm fine," Cas said and glanced up at Dean, looking anything but 'fine' as he was writhing on the floor. "Just… exhausted my… grace a bit… is all." Even though Cas was only able to speak a few words at a time, he still tried to reassure him. Typical.

Cas' eyes drooped, and Dean suddenly had a horrible thought: Cas might have used too much of his grace on _him_ lately. To heal fake injuries. Well, not 'fake' ones per se, but ones that could have been avoided. Maybe. If Dean hadn't, say, intentionally cut himself or deliberately fallen down the stairs. Yeah, they could have been avoided all right. Dean felt his gut tighten.

Subconsciously, Dean had pressed two fingers to the crease of pain forming on Cas' forehead.

"Dean?" Cas' eyes fluttered open, confusion written all over his face.

"Yeah?" Dean asked, leaving his fingers right where they were, even when Cas tilted his head.

"You're not an angel," Cas said, looking at him through slightly unfocused eyes.

"I know, buddy," Dean replied in a soft voice. "But thanks for reminding me."

"You can't heal me," Cas clarified.

"No, I know." Dean swallowed. "I know that, too." Even though he really wished that he could. He reluctantly lowered his hand, making sure that his other hand was still on Cas' shoulder, anchoring him. "Just hang in there. Sammy's gonna be back in a sec and then we're going back to the bunker and you'll relax and recharge your batteries or whatever." When he realized that he had started babbling, he snapped his mouth shut and simply patted Cas' shoulder comfortingly.

Just then came the sound of footsteps approaching. Dean reached for his blade automatically, only then realizing that it was still stuck in one of the dead Neanderthals, but of course it was only Sam, anyway. So he draped Cas' arm over his shoulder and helped him to his feet, and Sam slipped in to support Cas' other side. With Cas between them, they made their way outside, all but carrying the half-unconscious angel to the Impala.

"You still can't heal me," Cas mumbled. "But thank you for trying."

"Sure," Dean said distractedly, focusing on getting Cas into the backseat of his car.

"I mean it. I really appreciate your healing touch." That didn't even make any sense, but Sam looked up sharply, and Dean didn't like the expression on his face; halfway between disapproval and sympathy. Dean turned away, making sure Cas was comfortable. When he saw him shiver slightly, he remembered that when low on grace, Cas tended to feel human things like hunger and cold. More on impulse than anything, he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over Cas as a blanket.

Satisfied that that was as much as he could do for Cas at the moment, he closed the door and turned back around to Sam, holding out his hand for the keys.

On their way home, Cas fell asleep in the Impala's backseat. He had to be really beat if he had to stoop to human methods of recharging.

"You're both idiots," Sam said out of nowhere. Dean, who was in the middle of checking up on Cas by looking into the rearview mirror, turned his head at that to glance at Sam.

"I didn't see _you_ come up with a better plan," Dean groused. If Sam wanted to play the blame game, there was enough to go around. After all, there was no way Sammy knew about how 'not-so-accidental' his accidents these past few days had been.

"Not what I'm talking about," Sam said. "Why do you think Cas was finding excuses to heal us all the time?"

"He didn't want us to be in unnecessary pain," Dean repeated what Cas had told them, but then his brain processed what else Sam had said. "Wait, what? 'Excuses'?"

"Dean – he healed your bruise from when I punched your arm."

"Yeah, but you punched me really hard," Dean grumbled.

"No, I didn't. I really didn't. – Anyway, I realized it when he stopped touching us altogether. Did you notice that he only ever touches us in near-death situations?"

"Well, that can't be true," Dean said, trying to think of other situations. Granted, the hugs that came to mind fell into that category: They were mostly "Sorry you're about to die" or "I'm glad you didn't die" hugs. Next, his mind jumped to a thousand different scenarios when Cas had touched him or Sam in other ways, but before he could voice one of them, Sam continued.

"And when he heals us. And I suppose, he used to touch us when he zapped us somewhere, but since he can't fly anymore…"

And there went Dean's thousand different scenarios, leaving… not a whole lot actually.

"Son of a bitch," Dean said, realizing that Sammy might just be right. He glanced into the rearview mirror again at the sleeping angel, who apparently thought he was only allowed to touch them if they needed healing. He felt his gut clench at that thought. Cas, oblivious to Dean's inner turmoil, let out a soft sigh in his sleep, snuggling deeper into Dean's jacket and burying his nose in it.

All Dean could do was turn away and focus on the road in front of him again to try to get rid of the thickness in his throat.

"Yeah. So, just. Don't be a jerk to him," Sam's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Hey!" Dean protested, about to add that he wasn't that insensitive, but he didn't, because he realized that he might just have been a jerk when he told Cas to stop healing them. Of course, Sam had been an equally big jerk. – Somehow that didn't make him feel better about it all that much.

* * *

Crossposting from AO3 because even though I think might be the place where my fics fit in better, I still cling to that site inexplicably...

Reviews make my day. :) The comfort part follows in the next chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time they arrived at the bunker, Cas still hadn't woken up and he just kept on sleeping through their attempts at waking him, which was why Dean and Sam had to carry him inside and into his room where they laid him down on his bed.

He was still wrapped in Dean's jacket and when Dean tried to get it back, Cas clutched it tighter with surprising strength, and mumbled something incomprehensible.

"You keep that, then," Dean muttered under his breath, giving up, and then turned to Sam. "So. We've got ourselves an exhausted angel again, huh?" Which was code for: Who was going to take first watch?

"Seems like it," Sam said, looking over at Cas, deep in thought. "I didn't know he was this… low on power. I mean, he hasn't done anything like this in a while, but I just figured… there wasn't really a reason to."

"Yeah, I guess he really doesn't have 'the power of Heaven' behind him anymore."

They watched Cas sleep for a moment in silence.

"He's gonna be okay, though, right?" Dean asked, suddenly needing to hear Sam say it.

"Of course," Sam said. "He's been worse off before and was still able to replenish his grace."

Dean huffed out a humorless laugh. "You'd think we'd be used to it by now, huh? Or at least know that, angel or not, he isn't invincible."

Suddenly feeling very exhausted himself, Dean sat down on the chair next to the bed and leaned forward to bury his head in his hands.

"Hey, how about you watch over him while I make us something to eat?" Sam suggested.

"Not really hungry," Dean mumbled through his fingers.

"Well, Cas might need some food when he wakes up."

Dean didn't look up when he heard footsteps leave the room and the door fall closed. He sat there quietly for a few minutes, his eyes closed, listening to Cas' steady breathing.

"Are we home already?"

Dean had been about to fall asleep in the chair himself, but hearing Cas' voice made him look up. When he saw Cas staring at him curiously, he felt a weight lifting off his chest.

"Hey there sleepyhead. Yeah… yeah, we're home." Dean had to smile at that. He couldn't remember Cas ever having referred to the bunker as his 'home,' but it sounded right coming out of his mouth.

"I don't think I would like to relive that experience," Cas stated. He still sounded weak, but he would be all right, and nothing else mattered.

"No kidding." Thinking back to his talk with Sam in the Impala, Dean laid a hand on Cas' shoulder.

Cas frowned at him. "Dean. You are aware of the fact that you can't heal me, right?" he asked, obviously having forgotten that they had already had that discussion.

"Yes, I know," Dean answered patiently, for the second time that night. "And _you_ are aware of the fact that you don't need an excuse to touch me, right?" He tried to mirror Cas' usual casual tone.

Cas blinked at him slowly. Apparently, Sam had been right and he hadn't known that.

"Of course," Cas said nevertheless, reaching out to Dean with his arm, two fingers aiming for his forehead.

Dean realized that he had to look battered after the fight, too, and quickly ducked out of the way of Cas' healing touch, letting go of his shoulder in the process. "Oh, no, you don't!" he said. A crease appeared on Cas' forehead and he tilted his head, aborting his gesture, but leaving his arm halfway outstretched in the air. "No more using your grace on me unnecessarily. You hardly have any to spare. – Besides, what did I just say?"

"I was not going to use my grace on you," Cas replied, the frown still on his face.

"Oh. Well. Okay then." Dean was looking at him warily, but leaned forward again slightly, so that Cas could finish the 'healing' touch he had been going for – minus the healing part.

They stayed like that for a moment and Dean couldn't quite bring himself to explain that that wasn't really a human-appropriate touch. Besides, it might just be conditioning, but the touch felt relaxing and sent a warmth through his body, almost as if Cas was healing him after all.

"Oh no, not this again!" Dean was startled out of his musings. He hadn't even heard Sammy enter.

"I am not using my grace on him," Cas stated, making no move to withdraw his arm.

"He isn't using his grace on me," Dean confirmed, trying to look like this was completely normal, nothing weird going on here, no sir.

"Oh. Well, good." Sam walked over to the bed and put the plates he had brought on the nightstand. "Nice to see you're feeling better." He smiled at Cas and gave him a light pat on the shoulder.

"Are those PB&Js?" Cas asked, finally lowering his arm from the strange angel touch to get a better look at the sandwiches on the nightstand.

"Yeah." Sam shrugged. "With grape jelly. I thought maybe you'd be able to taste more than molecules with your grace running low and all." He offered a sandwich to Cas, who accepted it gratefully, and then took one plate over to Dean and sat down next to him.

The three of them enjoyed their PB&Js in comfortable silence. And if Dean found non-excuses to touch Cas and make sure he really was okay from time to time… well, he caught glimpses of Sammy doing the same, so it was just them looking out for their touch-deprived angel.

He was just debating with himself whether ruffling Cas' hair would be going too far (probably not, because Cas' understanding of human touch etiquette was rudimentary at best and he most likely wouldn't even think it was weird) when Cas asked, "Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"This is your jacket," Cas stated, frowning at his makeshift 'blanket.'

"Yeah and it's my favorite, too, so don't get any jelly on it," Dean grumbled. And to make sure that Cas understood what he really meant by that, he leaned over to ruffle Cas' hair, making it stick up even more than usual. Cas' confused look was totally worth it – but Dean was pretty sure that Cas got at least part of what he didn't say out loud:

 _I'm glad you're okay._

 _Don't ever go exhausting your grace for us again._

 _I'd give my favorite_ everything _for you._

And maybe even: _You_ are _my favorite everything._

* * *

 **As always, my muse loves feedback almost as much as she loves Cas. See my ao3 page for more Dean & Cas fics. (archiveofourown dot org slash users slash noiproksa) Without the spaces obviously and substitute "dot" and "slash" for the symbols.**


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